


Effulgent

by FatalViolet520



Series: Beautiful Words (beautiful you) [3]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Boys Kissing, Canon Compliant, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Friends to Lovers, Intensely Requited Love, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Mark Lee (NCT) is Whipped, Pre-Relationship, Soft Lee Donghyuck | Haechan, god theyre so fuckin in love its adorably nauseating, its literally 2k words of mark being Whipped, overuse of the word soft golden and sweet, taeyong is implied to be dating someone if u squint really hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2020-03-06 12:50:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18851419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FatalViolet520/pseuds/FatalViolet520
Summary: Donghyuck is many things, to Mark. He is the most jarring bass drop and the sweetest ending chord; the dazzling afternoon sun and the gentle dawn of it in the morning; he is loud laughter with sharp wit and soft singing with dulcet reassurances.Most of all, he is, to Mark, everything.(mark comes to realise he loves donghyuck, and he could spin hundreds of songs and lyrics and words but they would not yet cover the affection pulsing in his heart.)





	Effulgent

**Author's Note:**

> hi yes it is exam season and i wrote this to blow off my stress because 1. we need to establish i love hyuck and 2. so does mark 
> 
> anyway this is literally fluff without plot, please enjoy, it's word vomit of me loving hyuck that i projected onto mark but let's be real who doesn't love hyuck right?????????? enjoy, as always!!!!

 

[Effulgent](https://en.oxforddictionaries.com/definition/effulgent)

1\. shining brightly; radiant.

2\. (of a person or their expression) emanating joy or goodness.

 

* * *

 

Mark Lee is a lot of things. He is a writer, a composer, a singer, an artist, an adult - contendable, Renjun would say - and a part of NCT. So, yes, he is a lot of things, will become a lot of things as he grows older and keeps learning, and he learns something everyday. He generally remembers moments well, remembers when he learns new things, journals sometimes when he feels like it or when something has happened that deserves to be remembered, no matter how others might think the event is mundane.

 

What he doesn’t remember is when Donghyuck turns from his best friend to his whole world, the sun, the stars and everything in between. He has hunches, though. 

 

Perhaps it’s the late nights when Donghyuck barges into the studio and demands they go home, dragging him out by the sleeve and making him sleep when they get back. Perhaps it’s the bright summer days, all glaring sunshine and strong wind, Donghyuck becoming loud and excited and voice going from dulcet to shrill, smiling so hard that his eyes crinkle up. Perhaps it’s the neverending hours in the dance studio, dripping sweat until Mark thinks his vision is going blurred and legs weak, and it’s Donghyuck who’s tossing him a towel and giving him a water bottle, telling him to rest. Perhaps it’s the fleeting smiles and touches Donghyuck gives him when they catch each other’s eyes, always more meaningful and affectionate, understanding each other beyond words.

 

Perhaps it’s the way Donghyuck goes to him above anyone else, seeking out his comfort and warmth wherever and whenever, content and melting into his side, trusting Mark to take care of his heart just as he has taken care of Mark’s. 

 

He doesn’t remember when Donghyuck goes from his best friend to the reason of most of his happiness, but he thinks he doesn’t need to remember. 

 

Still, he thinks he knows when he falls in love. 

 

It’s Sunday morning, and the sun dawns softly in his memory, drawing threads of sunlight through the curtains and casting gold ribbons onto their sleeping figures. It’s this slightly too uncomfortable warmth that stirs Mark from his sleep, and he comes to consciousness softly, surrounded by the smell of floral detergent and something vaguely sweet that makes him want to curl into it. 

 

He wakes to Donghyuck fast asleep in his arms. 

 

His first thought is to just go back to sleep and not question when or how Donghyuck managed to sneak into his bed and actually fit himself so closely, but then Donghyuck sniffles a little, burrows a little closer, and the sleepiness at the forefront of his mind recedes. His attention, now peaked, turns onto Donghyuck, and he thinks he’d wake up early every morning, for the rest of his life, just to see Donghyuck like this.

 

Donghyuck is always so much softer in the morning, vulnerable and open with sleep, and it reminds him of all those years ago when they had both been tiny and young, with dreams bigger than they could yet comprehend, and they’d sang together, stumbled through learning how to dance together, believing that they would make the finish line, and above all, make the finish line together. 

 

Mark has to stop that train of thought before he starts getting teary-eyed. 

 

Almost in a trance, like he can’t help himself, Mark reaches up to smooth Donghyuck’s hair away from his face, curled and messy from sleep, and rests a palm on his cheek gently. His gaze lingers on the ruffled curls and the soft silver colour of it, running fingers through it and smiling unconsciously when Donghyuck lets out a satisfied sigh. 

 

_ Beautiful _ , Mark’s mind supplies.  The longer Mark looks, eyes tracing over the flutter of Donghyuck’s eyelashes, the fullness of his cheeks, the button of his nose, the pout of his full lips and the way the golden threads of sunlight ripple over his tan skin, dipping patches of his skin in pools of gold and bronze, the more things he finds ethereal.  _ So beautiful _ . If Mark lets himself, he could let his fingers wander over the softness of his skin, the curve of his neck, let his fingers trace the shape of his lips and press against his nose. Another time, he decides, sleep pulling at him once again, and he’s too weak to resist it. 

 

Easily, his arm sweeps down to settle on Donghyuck’s waist, palm briefly sweeping over the dip of his waist and the jut of his hip, enamoured with affection, then he’s pulling Donghyuck, close, closer, and finally, he recognises the sweet smell that’s lodged deep into his sense of smell. 

 

Honey. Honey, the same sweet shampoo and body wash combination Donghyuck had gotten on a whim weeks ago, claiming it would make his skin supple and smooth. Why Mark remembers this, he refuses to examine himself, but the dizzying warmth and cloying sweetness blanket any of his rationality, and he just presses a kiss to the top of Donghyuck’s head, seeping with affection, then he’s sinking back into the soft sheets, letting himself fall back asleep. 

 

In the last moments where his consciousness teeters on a gentle slope towards the depths of slumber, his mind pulls at images of Donghyuck, golden and bright and so, so beautiful, and the thought occurs to him just as he falls asleep. 

 

_ I love Donghyuck _ . 

 

It sounds right, Mark thinks. It sounds right, it is right, it’s the natural course of the world that he should love Donghyuck, be in love with him and all that he is and will be. The realisation of his feelings blooms slowly like a flower that had been waiting since winter, and now that the sun is shining, it blooms intensely in the herald of spring, and will continue to do so, never wilting nor fading. 

 

This love he has, it fits right into the jigsaw of his heart and so, Donghyuck becomes a part of him, his love, his world and his everything. 

 

* * *

If one was to ask the members if Mark loved Donghyuck, they’d reply  _ yes _ without any hesitation. The next question of  _ how do you know _ is slightly trickier. There is no doubt that Mark loves Donghyuck, anyone can see it, but it comes about slowly, after observation, and if one really knows the both of them. 

 

It’s in the way Mark buys green tea for Donghyuck even though he hates it himself. He buys them because he knows Donghyuck brews it on slower days when they don’t have to rush about, and because Donghyuck likes the smell of green tea and rice, the fragrance leaving a soft jasmine air to his breath when he talks for the rest of the morning. 

 

It’s in the way Mark is the only one who regularly calls him  _ Hyuckie _ , and  _ Duckie _ , infinitely more affectionate when they’re alone and there are no cameras to scrutinise them and make guesses and for unknowing eyes to untangle every single movement they make. Neither of them think twice of the endearments that flow from Mark’s mouth so easily, but it gives the rest of them a little jolt, like they forget Mark loves Donghyuck so much, so deeply. 

 

It’s in the way Mark flips through his notebook for some of the lyrics for the latest song, and Taeyong accidentally reads something on the opposite page, and it makes his heart squeeze tight with affection he knows for only one person, and he apologises when Mark finds him staring at the lyrics. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Taeyong murmurs, “I didn’t mean to read those, but - but those are talking about Donghyuck, right?” 

 

Mark flushes a little, but makes no move to hide the lyrics, just fiddles with his pen and his eyes flicker from the words to the computer screen of the recording studio. “Ye - yeah,” He says, “They’re about Hyuckie.” He leaves it at that, and Taeyong doesn’t pry anymore, knowing it’s far too personal, too intimate, for him to tease Mark about. 

 

Taeyong had read sonnets less romantic than what Mark had written, and the words revolve in his mind, slowly, consistently, and he thinks he never knew how deep Mark’s affection ran to this day. 

 

It’s common knowledge that Mark is good with words, knows how to shuffle his words, sometimes spitting them out and sometimes drawing them out, always knowing how to write words that will sink deep into minds and hearts. He’s just a little worse at saying them out, always a little more afraid of being vulnerable, of letting his emotions seep into his words and becoming too thrown off to deliver his words correctly. 

 

When it comes to Donghyuck, he can write thousands of words, hundreds of songs, and he wouldn’t even come close to expressing the depth of his feelings. Donghyuck is his everything. 

 

Donghyuck is the electrifying build of a hard-hitting dance song, the build buzzing in his veins and then the pulsing, gravity-like drop of the beat after the build, slamming excitement into the atmosphere and spinning into a whirlwind of colours and bass drops. He is the soft, drawn out piano accompaniment of a ballad on a cassette tape, the final ending chords that are pressed into prettily, softly, the ending of the song ringing in his ears and his heart, leaving him warm.

 

Donghyuck is tan skin gleaming in the afternoon sun, warmth beating down on their necks, eyes squinting to see in the brightness, everything so dazzling and saturated it’s difficult to see. He is the soft gold that inches into the darkness of the sky as dawn breaks over the horizon, bringing hope and warmth, banishing the coldness and promising better things for today. 

 

Donghyuck is obnoxious, loud screaming at karaoke, choosing what he wants to sing and making everyone groan with the same song he sings every time, but he ends up shouting into the microphone and making everyone laugh. He is the sweetest, inaudible hum of a nameless melody in the evenings, stirring something in the saucepan for dinner, honeyed voice echoing bell-like through their dorm and it lights Mark’s heart with candle lights and not fireworks. 

 

Donghyuck is warm hugs and cheeky kisses, sharp retorts and comforting advice, bright stage lights and dimmed room lamps. He is Mark’s all and everything, his love and his universe, his sun and his stars. 

 

He is Mark’s love, one, and always. 

 

These thoughts run through his head, all equally as bright and important, and he doesn’t think he could tell all of this now, but he will, has the time to do so. 

 

“Hyung?” Donghyuck asks softly, curled up beside him,  _ The Proposal _ playing on their laptop screen. 

 

Mark breaths in, honey-sweet, and draws an arm around Donghyuck’s waist, pulling him close, closer. 

 

“Mark?” Donghyuck asks again, voice even softer, and he’s looking at Mark now, practically in his lap, neck craned to look at him. 

 

The colours of the movie play over Donghyuck’s features, the lamp throwing bronzed light over them, and it creates shadows in the corners of Donghyuck’s eyes, the pout of his lips and the crease of his hoodie. Mark takes all of this in, words still spinning through his mind, and he thinks he loves Donghyuck so, so much. 

 

“I love you, Hyuck,” Mark murmurs, and it’s all he can say for now, affection clammed up in his throat, unexpectedly vulnerable, but it’s Donghyuck, it’s okay. “I really do, so much.” 

 

There’s a pause, like Donghyuck’s letting a breath out, then he’s shifting, scrambling to face Mark properly, clumsy in his haste, and Mark has to grab at his waist and arm to steady him. “You - you just - you said -” Donghyuck stutters, and it’s such a role reversal, when Mark was the one who was usually stuttering. 

 

“I love you,” Mark repeats, words heavy with affection and everything he has ever written. “I love you, Hyuck.” More than the sun, more than time, more than the universe and everything that has come to exist, he wants to say, but this has to do for now; he has an eternity to carve out his love for Donghyuck, if he’s allowed.

 

There’s a brilliant smile breaking like the dawn of a new day at the corners of Donghyuck’s mouth, brighter than the colours of the move, than the dim light of the lamp, and it tugs at Mark’s heart, makes him pull Donghyuck a little closer. 

 

“I love you too,” Donghyuck whispers, lacing his fingers behind Mark’s neck, the prettiest blush coming to tint his cheeks. “I love you so much, hyung, you have no idea.” He presses close, resting his head on Mark’s shoulder, melting, and it takes everything in Mark not to outright declare Donghyuck as his literal soulmate. “I’ve been waiting, hyung, you know?” 

 

“I know,” Mark says, bringing Donghyuck’s head up from his shoulder so he can look Donghyuck in the eye. “I know, Duckie, I know. I love you, yeah?” 

 

“Yeah,” Donghyuck says, ducking his head, like he’s shy, “I know, I love you too.” His smile is soft and brilliant and beautiful and he is all of these things at the same time, and Mark doesn’t know how he’s had the privilege of loving him.

 

“Hyuckie,” Mark murmurs, “Can I - Can I kiss you?” 

 

“I don’t know,” Donghyuck teases, but his cheeks are flushed rose red, and he’s leaning in. “Can you?” 

 

“Will you let me?” Mark asks, gaze heavy and affectionate, and it makes Donghyuck squirm, unused to actually receive such intensely requited skinship.

 

“Yes,” Donghyuck says, suddenly shy, and his eyes slide shut, cheeks burning. 

 

The first press of their mouths together is soft and tentative, not too sure what to do, but then Mark slides palm from his waist up to the back of his neck, tilting him to kiss him better, the other hand hot on his hip, and Donghyuck scrabbles closer, pressing them together. One of his hands comes to clutch at the fabric covering Mark’s chest, sighing almost wondrously when Mark coaxes his lips apart slowly.

 

“Love you,” Mark confesses, their foreheads pressed together and mouths barely a breath away, and Donghyuck can feel the words against his lips. His eyes are shining, open with affection, and Donghyuck thinks he’s never loved someone so much before. 

 

“Love you too,” Donghyuck says, giggling a little, and Mark is the warmth he’ll call home for the rest of his life.

 

**Author's Note:**

> im so soft if u couldn tell. hmu @miroh-minho or @angel-injun on tumblr B) (also psst i love renjun so u might guess whats to come next hehe)


End file.
